Unneeded Sacrifices
by Frankie and Avery.dont ask
Summary: AE. A/L. Lancelot is never hit with the arrow, instead it was a dagger. Morgaine, Arthur's sister, nurses him back to health. Together, the three work to united Britain, under Arthur's guiding hand. Fragment that wouldn't leave me alone.
1. Chapter 1

**I know 3,000+ words is ridiculously long for a drabble and for an incomplete. But currently, this is staying this way. I have absolutely no intention of continuing this fic. It simply wouldn't leave me alone. BAH. Rabid plot bunny. So, this is the result. Hopefully enjoy, flame me if you want. **

**Unneeded Sacrifices**

The thick black smoke was doing its job well, disorienting the Saxon hordes, but that bonus was a double-edged sword, Lancelot thought as he squinted through the smog. His black gaze finally picked out the tall, blond Saxon from whom he'd saved Gwenivere. The man glared back at him for a fraction of a second before he raised his arm and hurled something at Lancelot. The Sarmatian frowned and dodged the flying dagger, though he didn't managed to move entirely out of its path. The blade buried itself in the muscles of his shoulder. Lancelot gasped at the pain that flood him, washing through his limbs and growing slowly with every wound it encountered. Biting down hard against the flood, he raised one of his own blades high above his head. The pain doubled as he flung it at the Saxon. The huge blond dropped like a stone, the black-handled sword sunk deep in his chest.

Lancelot grinned faintly as he swayed on his feet. The world went dim and his last thought before he lost consciousness was of Arthur's pleasure that he'd managed to save the Woad princess. Lancelot was not blind. He'd seen the looks the two had given each other atop the barrack's wall. He'd watched them disappear into the forest together. And, most telling of all, the action that had prick Lancelot's heart, he's seen the girl disappear into Arthur's quarters last night and not reemerged. Pride that he could use what he assumed were his last breaths to please Arthur washed through him and dragged him in the blackness.

Gwenivere was frozen as she watched the dagger sink into Lancelot's shoulder. Her mind conjured horrible images of Arthur's eternal hatred that his second and best friend died because of her. Finally, she was released from her stupor as Lancelot dropped to the ground. She let out a scream of rage and threw herself at the nearest Saxon, who went down in a jet of blood as she nearly beheaded him.

The minutes seemed to drag forever while the hours scurried by unnoticed all across the battlefield. Arthur lunged back and sank his sword into the Saxon King's chest. He rose and turned. The man had a look of something akin to ecstasy on his face as he murmured, "Arthur"

Arthur frowned at him briefly before looking around. His gaze swept the bloody fields before landing on Gwenivere, kneeling over a prone form. He squinted for a moment, before his eyes went painfully wide as he noticed Lancelot's black stallion nudging the figure. Dropping his helmet to the ground, Arthur ran full speed across the field to the kneeling woman. Burying his red-coated sword in the earth, he fell to his knees. "No…"

Tears pooled in his eyes and he screamed to the heavens, "It was my life to be taken! Not this! Never this…" He reached out a shaking hand and laid it against Lancelot's cheek. Breath stirred just slightly against his thumb and he jerked back. "Oh God! He's alive! Thank God, he's alive!"

Gwenivere's eyes went wide and a smile spread across her face. Lancelot's death would not be her fault. She still had a chance with Arthur. The Roman scooped Lancelot up into his arms, the smaller man's head lolled back against Arthur's arm. Arthur hefted him higher and Gwenivere fixed his limbs and head more comfortably. The three made their painstaking way across the battlefield, stepping over the dead and injured. Arthur took no notice. He kept up a steady, but almost silent stream of encouragement to Lancelot. At some point, Arthur noted vaguely, Bors, Galahad, and Gawain had joined them, Bors carrying a body over his shoulder.

It took much longer then Arthur would have liked, but they finally arrived at the tent that the medicus had set up after the battle. It lay at the foot of the area that the Woads called Badon Hill. A small smile touched Arthur's lips. The Battle of Badon Hill. He shook his head to clear it and scanned the faces of the medics. His arms were screaming at him from carrying Lancelot such a distance after fighting with his sword two-handed. In a moment, he spotted the face he sought. "Morgaine!"

His voice carried over the bustling sounds of the Medicus Tent. The girl raised her soft green eyes to meet his. She offered him a smile, until she spotted what he carried in his arms. Eyes going wide, she leapt to her feet and hurried over. "Arthur, what is wrong? Are you hurt? Is that…?"

"No, sweet, I'm not hurt any more then is to be expected." At his words and gentle look, Gwenivere saw green. "It's Lance. He's not waking. He…I thought he was…" Arthur choked, not managing to say it.

Morgaine smiled sadly at him. "Well then, let's see. Put him down there on that cot."

Arthur complied and the green-eyed woman set to work. Her long black hair was swept up atop her head and there was a small blue crescent between her brows. Gwenivere frowned at her. That was a Woad mark. Who was this woman?

Morgaine withdrew the dagger and placed Arthur's hand over the bleeding wound. "Don't move." She ordered and moved away to gather herbs.

Arthur stood still, the hands pressed to Lancelot's shoulder slowly darkening as a thick coat of blood seeped from wound. His green eyes were trained on Lance's face, which was tight with pain even in unconsciousness. When Morgaine returned she shooed Arthur back and stripped Lancelot of his armour. Cutting away the shirt underneath, She packed the wound with herbs and chanted softly under her breath. She dripping hot liquid over the dry leaves, turning the mixture into a thick paste directly on Lancelot's skin. Grabbing fresh linen bandages from the table next to her, Morgaine rapped his shoulder tightly. She continued stripping him, checking for other wounds. There were several small cuts and lacerations. Every injury she bared caused Arthur to flinch.

Gawain laid a comforting hand on the commander's shoulder. "He'll be fine, Arthur. He'll comet through this. This is Lance we're talking about."

Arthur nodded, but did not draw his eyes away from the still form. Gwenivere watched him closely, glance every so often flickering to Lancelot or Morgaine. This was, she thought, not the normal behavior of a man worrying for his best friend. Her eyes narrowed when Arthur reached out shaking fingers and touched the bandaged shoulder gently.

Lancelot jerked and moaned. Arthur's breath staggered and he dropped to his knees beside the low cot. Dark eyes opened and slide over his face before focusing. "Arthur?" His voice was no more then a hoarse whisper, but it sound sweet and lush in Arthur's ears.

"Here, Lance. I'm here. You're going to be fine. Morgaine is seeing to you." Arthur reached out and cupped Lancelot's face with one hand, reminiscent of the gesture he had made the night before. Gwenivere's lip twisted.

"I saved her for you, Arthur. He was going to kill her, but I saved her. For you." This murmured, Lancelot's eyes drooped shut and his breathing even slightly.

Morgaine smiled. "Good. Sleep, rather then unconsciousness. The herbs will help him stay that way. You can move him, if you promise to be as care as with an ill newborn. I'll attend him in your rooms, Arthur, when I'm done here."

Arthur nodded sharply and scooped the smaller man up once more in his arms. As he moved painstakingly slow to the barracks, he narrowed his eyes at Gwenivere. "What did he mean?"

Her eyes went wide. "I don't know. He was fighting that Saxon Prince. The bald one with the braided beard. I'd been fighting the man and he just appeared out of the smoke and took over. I suppose he meant that he saved me from that Saxon, but for you?"

Arthur scowled. "He must see something that I do not."

Gwenivere flinched and Galahad bit down on his lip to keep from snorting. Bors, who was still carrying Tristan's body over his shoulder, moved off to the cemetery when the reached the gates. Arthur watched him go for a moment, before calling to the single man seated atop the wall. The gates open and Arthur carried Lancelot across the courtyard. Images of the whipping that he'd had to dole out to the man in his arms flashed before his eyes and he stumbled. Gawain moved forward as though to take Lancelot's still form, but Arthur shook his head. "I'm fine. Just a memory."

Gawain met Arthur's eyes for a moment and nodded. At the door to Arthur's rooms, Gwenivere finally managed to call up the courage she needed to ask Arthur that question that had been burning in her mind for the better part of several hours. "Who was that woman in the Medicus tent, Arthur?"

Arthur glanced at her briefly as he laid Lancelot on his bed. He frowned. "That was Morgaine. She is the most talented Healer we have. Possibly the most talented healer on the whole of this Godforsaken island. She is also the High Priestess of the Isle of Avalon, among other things."

It was the 'among other things' that bad Gwenivere seethe with jealousy. She smiled brightly at him and nodded. "It is lucky she was here to care for your…second, then isn't it?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. "Lucky, yes. Lancelot is in the best of hands now that she is his Healer. Must you not check in with Merlin? I would be most grateful for a report of the battle from his perspective."

She smiled, truly smiled, at him and exited the room. Gawain grinned at Arthur broadly. "Why did you not tell her who Morgaine is to you?"

Arthur offered him a very weak grin. "She'll find out eventually. Let her stew. If Lancelot meant what I suspect he meant, this," He gestured to the still sleeping man on the bed. "is her fault. So let her stew."

There was a hard glint in his eye that, Gawain thought, did not bode well for Gwenivere. He smirked behind his hand as he left Arthur and his second. He never liked the chit anyway. She represented for him all that was wrong with women. He smiled softly as an image of Galahad flittered through his mind. He went in search of the other two knights.

Morgaine arrived at Arthur's door hours later, laden with bandages and jars. She offered Arthur a tired smile when he opened the door for her. "The Saxons lost most, if not all, of their army. You probably already know that their King and his son were both killed."

Arthur's lip curled back. "I killed the King. Lancelot slew the Prince."

She nodded and her smile was tight and hard. "Our side lost many, but not nearly as many as they did. No one you knew personally, except Tristan, but I am told you already knew of the scout's death." Arthur nodded. "Many of the wounded are already recovering, thanks to your call. If you hadn't sent for me from Avalon, many more would be dead. Your willingness to call all your allies saved many lives. It will save another life as soon as I can change Lancelot's bandages. Has he woken?"

Arthur shook his head. "Morgaine… You are the High priestess of Avalon…tell me why a merciful, loving God would do this? Is this punishment for…" He looked lost and waved vaguely at himself.

Morgaine scowled fiercely. "Brother, I have told you time and again. Your god is neither merciful nor loving. This may be his work and if it is punishment for the love you bear for this man, then he is a sick and twisted god. Arthur, there is nothing wrong in loving Lancelot. The bond between you is the strongest that I have ever seen. And yes I can see it. It binds the two of you together like a thick rope."

Arthur turned his face away from her and stared at the figure on the bed.

"It is part of what kept Lancelot alive. I also think something about it is what let him fall unconscious. There is something wrong between you two. I think it has something to do with that North Witch Princess. Merlin may not be the dark magician people suspect him to be but his daughter, your Gwenivere is a dark witch. She is no priestess, whatever she tells you, for she does not bare the mark of the Goddess upon her brow. Stay away from her, Arthur. She means harm to you or to this land, somehow."

Arthur shook his head. "As much as it repulses me, Morgaine, we must wed. She is the only thing that can unite this land. The Woads still do not trust me. I can never take my place as their king unless I take her as my wife."

Morgaine smiled fiercely. "That is merely what she has told you. What Merlin has told you. He wants his daughter wed to you because he believes you can control her, when he cannot. There are other reasons that she was walled in the prison to the north. Beside her status as a Woad Princess. But that is not for me to tell." Morgaine shook her head. "More importantly, the Woads do trust you. They believe you are invincible. Especially after Badon Hill, they believe that you can lead them anywhere, against any army and they will win. Also, I am your sister. I am the High Priestess of the Holy Isle of Avalon. I can pull together this land for you, if unity and the crown is what you desire, Brother. I can hand that to you. And should you wish a son…The Great Marriage to the land can give you one to rule when you are gone. You need no queen by your side. Only me. And only Lancelot in your bed. No betrayal and no pain."

Arthur turned wide pained eyes on her finally. "Oh Morgaine, why didn't you tell me this before? I have lain with her. The night before the battle…She may be with child already. A child of Britain and of Rome…"

Morgaine frowned. "No. I will see to it that no child came of your coupling. And any child of yours will be of Britain and of Rome, for you are of both worlds. It is what gives you so much power. Speak with Lancelot. Explain to him when he awakens, what you have done and why. You must not allow that witch any power over you."

Arthur nodded, looking back at the sleeping form on his bed. Morgaine stepped forward and set about changing the dressings on Lancelot's shoulder. She worked efficiently and silently. After a few moments, a knock came at the door. "Come." Arthur called sharply.

Gwenivere poked her head in around the door. "Arthur? I have seen Merlin."

He waved her in, with a quick glance at Morgaine. "What news did he give of the battle?"

She entered, treading on light feet. "He says first and foremost to congratulate you on a job well done. They have not found a single Saxon outside the death and wounded from the battlefield. We lost many, well over a hundred men and women. Many more were injured, but we won the day." Her smile was feral.

He nodded. "Does Merlin have any plans now that the battle has done?"

Gwenivere nodded tentatively. Her gaze flicked to Morgaine and then to Lancelot. The dark knight became restless under her eyes. He tossed his head and his breathing became labored. "Arthur…" he murmured, pain clearly heard in his voice.

Arthur was at the Sarmatian's side in a moment. "Yes, Lance. I'm here."

Eye still shut, still caught in his nightmare or vision, Lancelot spoke again. "Arthur, why have you gone? What more could I have possibly given you that would have made you stay? Arthur, please…don't go. Arthur, I…" He was clearly arguing with Arthur in his dreams. The Roman reached forward and cupped his cheek. "No, I…I am sorry, Commander…" Arthur flinched. "I'm sorry…No…Please. No, don't…"

Arthur leaned forward, heedless of Gwenivere's presence. "I'm here, Lancelot. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you, my Sarmatian. I promise you that. Lancelot, wake up. Lancelot…"

Arthur rubbed his thumb gently across the dark man's cheekbone. Lancelot jerked and his eyes snapped open. "Arthur?"

Arthur smiled at him. "I'm here, Lancelot. Always here. Morgaine is taking care of you and so am I. You'll be back in the saddle before you realize you were ever out of it."

Lancelot offered him a small half-smile, before his dark eyes roved over the room. He stopped and blinked when they landed on Gwenivere. Inhaling sharply as though he were in pain, he turned his face away to the wall.

Gwenivere smiled briefly, then turned to Arthur. "Yes, Merlin has plans. He offers you my hand in marriage to cement the pact between you and the Britons. As a way to unify the land and prove that your allegiance lies not with Rome, but with your own people."

Lancelot flinched, his eyes still trained on the wall. Arthur's eyes narrowed. "First, Gwenivere, Rome is part of me and always will be. I am half Roman and I grew to adulthood there. Second, he may plan all he wishes, but I do not love you. I refuse to marry for mere political machinations. A marriage between us is not the only way to unite this land."

Gwenivere's lip twisted into a snarl. "And what of the child, your child, which is growing inside me at this very moment?"

Lancelot flinched again and turned his face back to Arthur. There was pain and betrayal in his eyes. Morgaine opened her mouth. "I am sorry, Princess, but there is no child. The brief coupling that occurred between you and Arthur the evening before the battle did not result in a child, and as that was the only time you lay together, should you become pregnant or should you be carrying a child now, it does not belong to Arthur."

Gwenivere turned on her with a snarl. "And how _you _know this?"

Morgaine raised an arched eyebrow. "Can you not see the crescent that resides on my brow? I am the High Priestess of Avalon, I am the will of the Goddess and that will is not for you to bear the heir to the throne of Briton."

Gwenivere snarled again and spat at her feet. "You would listen to this witch and not to the mother of your future child, Arthur?"

"I would listen to my sister before you, yes, Gwenivere. Morgaine is my sister and I believe her when she assures me that you are no with child…or at least not with my child. Stop your hissing and return to Merlin. Inform him that I will meet with him when my second has regained his strength and that I will not marry you. Now or ever, no matter how many children you produce and claim are mine."

Head high and nostrils flaring, Gwenivere left the room, slamming the door behind her. "That woman has no respect for a sick room." Morgaine muttered darkly and rewound the bandages across Lancelot's shoulder. She rose and, dropping a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek, left as well.

Arthur turned to the other man, who was watching him warily. "I am so sorry, Lancelot. I am at a loss to explain myself. I have no excuse to offer you. Should it actually have produced a child, it would be my very deepest regret. As it is, I regret it deeply. Though, perhaps not as deeply as not explaining to you what Gwenivere actually meant for me. Had I done so, you would not be laying here with a stab wound in your shoulder from protecting her."


	2. Chapter 2

**So….so long after the first part got posted, I watched Camelot on Starz and felt the keen lack of fanfics, so I read a few Arthur/Lance one's from this universe and stumbled across my old fic. The plot bunny nibbled at my toe and I ended up with another 4 pages. So…**

**I dunno if there will be more. There may be. But I hope you enjoy this (with all the Arthurian references I peppered it with). **

**Disclaimer: nope. Not mine. If it were, Gwen would have been shot in the battle and Lancelot would have lived. **

Lancelot's black eyes were unfathomable as he stared at Arthur. "You don't…It must be the herbs, but I am not understanding you, Arthur."

Arthur smiled sadly at him. "I do not love her. The only one I love and have ever loved is you. It's always been you. You must have known this."

Lancelot turned his head away. "Arthur, are you blind to your own acts?" He trained his gaze on the window at the far end of the bed. "I have not been welcomed into your bed since before we left on that godsforsaken last mission. I would not have been welcomed had I sought you out. Especially after we…you rescued her from Marius' prison."

Arthur was shaking his head. "You don't understand, Lancelot. None of it was because I feel any less for you then I always have. I knew you were leaving. I…I still know that you are leaving. You are going back to Sarmatia. Home to your family. I have no right to…I was trying to make it easier on both of us by placing some distance between us. I am so sorry."

Lancelot turned back to the Roman, who had buried his head in his hands, fists clenched in his hair. He was shaking, the Sarmatian realized, crying. Lancelot frowned. "Arthur…I was leaving with you. I was planning to follow you to Rome and convince you to travel with me to visit my homeland. I never really had any intention of staying there. My family is all long dead or scattered. I thought…You were going home to Rome. To a Christian Rome. Where our…our relationship would not have been welcome."

Arthur's head jerked up. "What? Lancelot, no. That is not at all what…I…what a pair we make." His laugh was hollow and broken. "I love you more than anyone else in this world. The Woad Princess means nothing to me. What the people of Rome think means nothing to me. And I am beginning to feel that what the Christian God decrees means very little to me." Arthur turned his gaze to the wall, shame washing over him. "Lance, I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. I never meant to make you think that you meant any less to me than you ever had. I'm so sorry. If I'd just…If I been better to you, spoken with you and explained, none of this would have happened. It's my fault that you are injured…I…" He choked and dropped his head again.

Lancelot stared at him from the bed for several moments before he shifted, making to get up. Morgaine, who had faded into the background as the conversation progressed, leapt forward, as did Arthur. "What are you doing? You can't get out of bed! You've lost too much blood!"

Lancelot laid back down, pulling Arthur along with him. Arthur glanced at Morgaine, who nodded briefly and smiled. She stepped back into the shadows where the two could easily ignore her. Arthur settled against Lancelot's good side. "Arthur, if you are pulling away from the Christian God than you need to pull away from the Christian guilt. Stop blaming yourself. We had a misunderstanding. It's settled now. Put it behind you."

"You forgive me?" Arthur's voice was a fragile as Lancelot's health.

Lance smirked. "Of course, I forgive you, Arthur. But if you ever even think of fucking that whore again, I'll kill you myself."

Arthur laughed, relief flooding him. "Of course, Lance, I would expect nothing less."

Morgaine stepped forward again. "Boys."

Both men looked up at her, equally incredulous. "Sister, I am nearly a decade older then you. And Lancelot is at least several years your senior. How is it we are 'boys'?"

Morgaine laughed. "Well, when you act like children I call you boys. And you were both being pigheaded and uncommunicative children. Now, as I was saying. I can hand you the crown of an untied Britain, now that Rome has officially left. If you give me two weeks, I will give you a kingdom. Also, I suggest having Lancelot by your side for the coronation. You could even have him named official Consort, since everyone you care for knows about your relationship anyway. Seeing you breaking such a strict Roman, Christian edict would go well with the Woads."

Arthur glanced at Lancelot, who was refusing to meet his gaze. Arthur swallowed heavily. "Lance, would you like to be Consort?"

The dark-eyed man looked at him sharply, shock focusing his gaze. "What?"

Arthur smirked. "You heard me. If you want it, I will have you crowned Consort. Everyone will know what you mean to me."

Lancelot simply stared at him in awed shocked. That Arthur, strict Christian shamed Arthur, would do something that public…for him. Arthur, who would turned from him in the night, Arthur who he would find praying for forgiveness after a Lancelot had spent in his bed. Arthur smiled and touched a gentle hand to Lancelot's curls. "Think about it. If you want it, it will be done."

Lancelot nodded, still unable to think of anything to say, which was certainly a rare occurrence.

Morgaine cleared her throat. "Arthur will have to…fuck at least one more woman, however, before a Consort can be crowned."

Lancelot's eyes narrowed and his lip curled. "And who might this woman be?"

Morgaine rolled her green eyes, the same shade as Arthur's. "A priestess, whom I will choose. Arthur must wed the land. He is required, as a King recognized by the Isle of Avalon, to take part in the Great Marriage. I will make sure a child comes of it. Arthur will have an Heir, male or female or both if there is twins, and then you may crown Lancelot Consort. The Priestess will return to Avalon and begin training to take my place. I will spend much of my time here, with you at the Court you will establish… at Londinium?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. I hate that city. And it is much to Roman for the Woads to accept. I will build a new court…and a new city. Here near Badon Hill, where so many fought so bravely and died. Maybe against the cliff wall to give it more protection. But it will be here."

She nodded. Her eyes slipped out of focus and she began to sway. Both Arthur and Lancelot, whose eyes were beginning to droop again, had seen this happen before. They waited for the heavy, slightly hoarse voice that would speak.

"_King Arthur of all the Brittons and his Consort, a man from the wild far off lands, together shall bring peace to the land. They shall build a court at Badon Hill and it shall be called Camelot. It wills stand like a beacon of hope for all those coming after. A holy grail of future generations. And Arthur's decisions shall shape the course of history for millennia to come. And they say that Arthur and his knights will, together, come again to rule Britain in her greatest hour of need, arising from the grave to return peace and hope to the forsaken land._"

Arthur looked up at Lancelot, who no longer looked sleepy. "What?"

Lancelot shook his head in amazement. "I guess that means that resurrection is possible? You seem to be the once and future king."

Arthur gaped. Still gaping, he turned his eyes to Morgaine, who was herself again. She was furrowing her brow, trying to remember what she'd said. After a moment, her eyes grew round. "Oh heavens. Arthur…"

He nodded, shutting his jaw with a snap.


End file.
